blooms of Spring
flanked by evergreens─
sunshine on stones
Do the pines daydream?
feeding logs
into the flames
the surf swallowed
all in its way─
night and day
the sea
smashed on the shore─
drifting thoughts
grains of sand
on Grayland's strand─
needles on pines
cells in my hand
moving the sand─
raindrops washing the sea
rocks of the jetty
slick and cold─
black rockfish
gather below
pumps watering
red cranberry fields─
wind turbines
often
spinning
Splitting dry kindling,
damp November day─
wind chimes tinkling
birds gather on the
mud─
low tide
at noon
broken razor clam
shells
scattered around─
drunken men laughing
moonrise─
the dark night of a soul
lifts
walking into
falling leaves─
a moonlit path
dawn─
every leaf drips
backlit by fog
You shared the spark,
You fanned the flame,
You fed the fires,
You passed the Names.
For all those know and
For all those unnamed,
We raise this toast
With thanks this day.
wild animals are wily─
staying alive
rules our lives
dry sand
wet sand─
low tide at noon
Foggy all morning─
a raven breakfasts
on red roadkill
jet lights high in the sky─
the moon over
black soft surf
Gleaming gas pumps
In the fluorescent night,
Slaves of the Almight Dollar,
Pouring hot octanes
Into the bellies of Chevies.
Ding! Ding! Gallons go down.
Wallets open and fold.
Acid fogs melt steel belted moons.
Headlights come and go, flashing
By the dry Lakes of Petro.
A dead end ahead, everywhere,
For us, for OPEC, for Fords.
driftwood floats by
at high tide─
boats hide
Salmon drying
in the smoker─
caviar on a cracker.
Swordfish
sizzles fast on the grill─
lemon drops.
oyster shots
tingle my tongue─
cannabis buzzes her brain
floating upstream past Time
ticking counter clockwise─
I fell asleep
graveyard gate
closed─
dense fog
Live long enough,
and the losses pile up,
Till you're tossed away
like an old cracked cup,
All stained and worm,
dulled by time,
Useless, leaking,
not worth a dime.
Egoless, your flesh falls away,
a skeleton
Lost in Nirvana; lights out,
all done.
Then, the Skeleton Woman
drinks your dry tears,
Drums your still heart,
and sings away fears,
Slips under the quilts
and gives Love a Whirl;
Spinning, twirling,
your reborn as a Girl.
Forget yourself,
crack the cup on the floor,
Speak in a new voice,
the past is no more.
somehow, someway
everyone
gets eaten up someday
running out of time
for catching up
with the future
now
See the Big Picture
through the smallest of details─
unfoled maps.
Cuttings: Haiku and Short Poems by Mike Garofalo
All text and photos by Mike Garofalo
All rights reserved. June 1, 2022
Cellphone Poetry Series #1
Photo Locations:
Coastal Southwest Washington, USA
Coastal Northwest Oregon, USA
From: Four Days in Grayland
Mike Garofalo inn the Spring of 2020
Home, Orchards Area, Vancouver, Washington, USA
